


In broad daylight

by shittershutter



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 09:44:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12554660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shittershutter/pseuds/shittershutter
Summary: Collins tells him he loves him in broad daylight one day, in the middle of the kitchen, standing there so brave and bold; in the complete quiet where there are no breathless gasps and moans to hide behind, where his head is clear, and his eyes are focused.





	In broad daylight

**Author's Note:**

> * Unbetad. I'm so sorry.

When Collins arrives at the base fresh out of the academy, bright-eyed and enthusiastic, Farrier's transformation from a man into a mythical creature has run its course. So it's not the man he shakes hands with first. It's his reputation. 

Farrier is no longer just a pilot; he's a legend. The feats and adventures create a folding screen, and his natural, economical way with words keeps everyone at a reasonable distance until his real name is lost behind the various winged creatures they nickname him after.

The problem is, it takes Collins one look to see right through the carefully constructed facade, and Farrier can feel it crumble under the intensity of that gaze. 

His eyes automatically -- and quite shamelessly -- drop to the younger man's hands in search for the ring because god knows, Farrier is done with the married ones. Too much guilt to tiptoe around. 

There is no ring, no suspicious uneven tan lines on his finger either. There is a former fiancé -- Collins tells him so the very first evening they are out for a smoke outside the hangar watching the planes take off and land -- who promised to wait for him but didn't. 

The betrayal hurt like nothing else in his life ever did. "But then again, I betrayed her first," Collins muses nodding at the sky that is so heavy with clouds it looks like it's going to collapse on them any second. 

Farrier is quick to light another cigarette to conceal a grin. There is a chance, it means. The pretty boy won't even have to choose between Farrier and the sky. 

* * * 

Collins is a guest in his life at first, so quiet and unobtrusive, until, before Farrier knows it, he seeps into the very fabric of his being and he can't even remember ever existing without the man snoring softly into his chest every night. 

He finishes Farrier's cigarette butts and the tea from his cups and Farrier's drawers are full of socks and shirts that are not his (but he doesn't mind wearing). 

Then his blanket just gets changed with a bigger, heavier one, good enough to accommodate them both just in case, even though as the time goes by they take less and less space in the bed, sleeping pressed closely together. 

Collins tells him he loves him in broad daylight one day, in the middle of the kitchen, standing there so brave and bold; in the complete quiet where there are no breathless gasps and moans to hide behind, where his head is clear, and his eyes are focused. 

Farrier realizes then he is not a mythical hero of inhuman strength and fortitude, Collins is. 

He puts the teacup back to the table, and it doesn't jump and burn him with its fresh contents only because he had decades to train any violent reactions out of him. Inside, he's falling with terrifying speed, blood in his ears roaring. 

He gets up and takes the man's hand in his, fingers ghosting along the knuckles. He stares at his shoulder at first, gathering the courage to look up, the fabric of Collins' impeccably ironed uniform reminds him of his eye color either way, so there is no hiding from it. 

The echoing confession leaves his lips then, eyes quickly flickering along Collins' features, calm and open, and he drops his forehead to the man's shoulder, crumbling under the weight of what he just said. 

By the sound of it, the world is still turning. 

The floorboards don't open to swallow him whole, and he doesn't go down, spinning, into the hellfire as his mother promised he would. Collins' hand is still warm and steady between his fingers as he cradles it carefully, afraid to let go. 

The soft lips brush the top of his head then, trailing down the side of his face. Collins tricks him to relax and open his mouth with a few quick kisses against the tight lips. Then the tongue comes out, and as their mouths come crashing together, it seals the deal. 

* * * 

He listens to Collins arranging the uniform on a chair, a neat little pile organized in a strict order so he can get it back on under a minute just as he was trained.

Farrier can't open his eyes; it'd be too much as his body burns, fire spreading from the center of his chest to every direction, skin oversensitive and flushed red. He chokes on a dozen more _iloveyous_ as they get stuck in his throat, leaving him completely speechless. 

Collins doesn't mind, he's quiet, too, as he lies down between his lover’s spread legs and runs the hot mouth along the bite marks on the inner thighs he’s left, the ones that sting so pleasantly under the fabric of his Farrier's trousers when he takes even the tiniest step. 

He gives an obscene wet kiss to his cock, too, before crawling up, so they are face to face when he fucks Farrier’s trembling body open with his fingers. 

Farrier spreads and arches under him, an odd, unnatural shape of it lying exposed amidst the white sheets; his fingers claw at the fabric, squeeze and release in a complete sync with each Collins' movement as his cock slides in, thrusting deep and hard.

Farrier still can't look up at the man as the vibration in his thighs builds until his entire body is shaking with it, but then there are warm hands on his cheeks, thumbs stroking along the eyelashes in a silent request he can't deny. 

Farrier feels like such a wet mess afterward, the man’s softening cock inside him as he kisses the feverish blush off his cheeks, their hips still moving a little against each other. 

They don’t speak, not until it’s time to get up and face the rest of the day. But the silence between them is so comfortable and warm neither dares to break it for the longest time. 

The lips taste sweeter with the words of love still on them and they can't stop kissing in the dark corridor for that very reason until Collins digs his hands into his pockets and scolds him for stealing his lighter again. 

Farrier doesn't have the lighter, not now anyway -- he'll probably find it under the bed months later -- but he has another kiss for him just to wipe the scowl off that face so Collins will have to leave with it instead.


End file.
